Hound, Silverblade and the Sparkling
by hummergrey
Summary: Hound is known for two things. Solo scouting and his holograms. Then femme Silverblade shatters his lone wolf image, before falling in love with the wrong mech. Another will claim her, forcing Hound to choose between two worlds and the life he has known.
1. Chapter 1 Need to share a room

Author's Notes: This fic is per readers request to expand on the concept of clans and protection rights. While these are canon in the known Transformer universe, not all the details in this fic are. The femme Silverblade is an OC, rest of the bots are movie verse unless not in the movie (practically every bot) and those are G1 canon. Hound, Ultra Magnus and others.

The plan was to focus on femme Silverblade but much of her story is told in the fic _If an Autobot do not do the following. _This fic will focus on her time with Hound, the green army jeep alt mode scout. Updates are sporadic so please set story alert to get the latest. New chapters are on their way.

I do NOT own Transformers in any shape, size or form. This is strictly for fun and never for profit. All rights and ownership are Paramount, Hasbro and whoever else they have signed contracts with. This is rated T. Meaning suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with some violence, (battles and the Decepticons) minor coarse language, (Cybertron swearing) and suggestive adult themes. (Ironhide and Chromia)

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

**CHAPTER ONE – WHY HOUND'S ROOM**

_NEST Base, Diego Garcia Island, Indian Ocean _

_Autobot Private Quarters_

Silverblade's lip plates twisted into a frown, as the start of faint noises through the wall of her quarters began. The ancient tall silver femme turned, irritated at the Autobots inhabiting the adjoining room. Her silver armor reflected the faint overhead lights even as her blue optics spun faster. One foot pad tapped the floor as her arms crossed, her energon rifle tucked away in sub space instead of her usual arm mounted position. The single recharge berth and sparse personal effects revealed little about her or her history. The engraved Autobot symbols prominently displayed on her armor and the welded scar across her protoform on the left shoulder, angling down her spine told more to the few that had seen it.

"Oh not again! When those two are not sparking, they are fighting or trying to blast each other into spare parts," she grumped. "Then they make up and spark again. Prowl could have warned me why the rooms on both sides of Ironhide's and Chromia's were available. Instead that mech hands me the available list during the daytime and lets me choose. That officer is so on my get even list once he is out of med bay." The vocal tones increased in volume followed by a smash and crash sound.

"Ugh!" She closed down her audio receptors. "Almost enough to share a room with a mech just to get some uninterrupted recharge time," she vented hard then paused, her processors cycling as her arms uncrossed. "Share? Maybe that is the way to go. Share with a scout! They are almost never here; they need a roommate without physical contact. Better yet, pick a mech I have zero interest in.'

Silverblade quickly reviewed the available list of scouts. 'Bumblebee? No fragging way. First time Ironhide visited I would throw him out on his aft then I'd be spare parts. Cliffjumper? No. Optimus warned me to keep my past a secret. Any hint of my being a Decepticon, even if I never fought as one and Cliffjumper would shoot first, middle and last. Mirage? Too arrogant. Cosmos, Powerglide, and Beachcomber are mini bots. Crack my helm on their doorway first time I was slow to pull out of recharge. Jazz? Bad processing there. No secret would be safe and I don't understand half of what he says. Hmm, Hound? Why not? He is on a mission right now.' She paced her quarters, exactly four strides to the left, turn and four strides to the right wall.

'How to ask? Every way I try comes out wrong,' she grimaced, optics narrowing as the map of earth's solar system vibrated on the wall from a dull impact. Battle sensors came online, searching for an active targeting lock or weapons charging from the couple next door. "Not the first time they might accidentally blast through wall." She straightened the large map, ignoring the char mark on the wall that it hid.

'Hi Hound. I need a good recharge and you are the answer? No. I need to borrow you or rather your recharge berth, and would you like some company tonight? Too personal. Definitely easier to send an info packet first. Clip of how bad the noise is in my room, the hallway lights that shine under the door and the understanding I am not interested in him. When Hound returns, I am gone to my old recharge berth. Or on graveyard patrol to escape the noise.' Silverblade reclined on her recharge berth, leaning against the wall before closing her optics. All systems focused inward to link with the long-range sender unit to locate and ping his specific signal.

::Are you free for a quick question?:: Silverblade

::Depends on the question. Silverblade right? Tall silver femme, latest Cybertron transfer? Returned with Prime after the Allspark rebuild?:: Hound

::Know any other comm line tagged with Silverblade on the end?:: Silverblade retorted lightly.

::What can I help you with ma'am?:: Hound answered, trying to sound professional and not sheepish in his mental tone.

::Have a problem you might be able to help with:: Silverblade sent a data burst of the idea rather than try to explain. Silence stretched and she began to wonder about asking him.

::Sorry, was multi tasking. It's sunrise here and I am on active patrol. No Decepticon surprises for the human soldiers or me. Seems workable on one condition:: Hound

::Which is?:: Silverblade asked, systems fluttering with hope.

::Don't leave any armor on the floor. Heard you femmes do that:: Hound

::Smart bot! Not a problem with this femme:: Silverblade

::Then good recharge and peace until all are one:: Hound

::Stay safe Hound, until all are one:: Silverblade sent, closing the signal and hopping off the recharge berth. Her metal feet pads rang on the concrete floor with the enthusiastic impact. 'Yes, yes, and yes!" she twirled in a circle delightedly. Smiling, she was out her door, down the hallway and into Hound's quarters, using his code to access the door lock. Stepping inside, she noted the green and black coloring theme and shrugged, turning her audio receivers back on. Optics focused on the far doorway, the room containing two separate recharge berths at the right height for a mid size bot. Twenty seconds later, her silver frame was stretched out on the farthest, her recharge cycle warning completing.

'Total peace and quiet,' she vented softly, not hearing any noises. For a human month, she snuck into his unused room, recharging peacefully and sneaking out every morning.

_**Autobot Security Office, Diego Garcia Island**_

"Are there any other rooms available beside the ones on either side of Ironhide and Chromia's?"

"I regret to inform you there are not," Prowl answered, his black and white wing doors nearly straight up with amusement. His blue optics revealed no emotion and matched his equally expressionless faceplates. "There are no other quarters available until the next set of expansion plans are approved by the humans."

"How long will that take?" Silverblade asked, her conduct as professional as his. Vorns of self imposed manners kept her from screaming the frustration she felt. It wasn't his fault and as Second in Command his focus needed to be the war and Prime.

"The land is waiting on the next grid over from our current area, the plans are complete and ready, the building materials stored but the humans procedures are the problem. Their planning committee has to approve the design, clear it through budgeting and then the expansion committee sign off on the project to begin work. For beings with a short life span, they take a long time to actually do things," Prowl stated, the faintest smile on his lip plates.

"You noticed that too? Let me know if the situation changes please," she said, bowing to him in the old ways of their kind before leaving. He bowed back, optic shutters closing briefly. Turning back to the datapads on his desk, he hesitated.

"I know she is in Hound's room while he is on active duty. He cleared it with me and Prime first. I wonder if she will continue once he returns? They would be a suitable pairing," he pondered then shook his head, as though chasing out random processing. "Among the humans too long. Relationships are private matters. Time to focus on important matters," he said as the twins latest prank damage report began scrolling down the screen.

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2 Being sneaky, getting caught

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Thanks to fellow writer greenleafprince for her nickname of Ironhide, _Iron- blow-up - everything- hide_ and used with her permission. Onward to be sneaky and getting caught, but not in a way you expect.

**CHAPTER TWO – THE SECRET IS OUT**

_NEST Base, Diego Garcia Island, Indian Ocean _

_Autobot Private Quarters_

Silverblade's chronometer beeped as preset coding dragged her out of recharge. "What? I have breems before reporting for duties. Why would I have set?" A pattern of light knocks sounded on the outer door. Her blue optics widened as she glanced quickly around the recharge room for anything personal left lying about. The tall silver femme remembered the one condition to her staying there.

:: Come in Hound. It is your room and I am not in recharge:: Silverblade sent, sensors identifying his unique energy signature in the hallway.

:: You decent?:: Hound asked.

:: I am always civilized and respectful, especially at my age youngling:: Silverblade lightly retorted.

He chuckled, walking in past the sliding outer door. His green bi-pedal mode shining freshly clean from the wash racks. "It's a human expression referring to physical appearance. Are you always so serious? Don't answer, rhetorical question," his raised hand forestalled her reply. "More human culture."

"How does a scout spending time alone tracking Decepticons become knowledgeable about humans?" she quipped, tucking her feet under her to the side while sitting upright. Her hidden hip blaster was easily reachable with her position flowing into a variety of explosive combat moves without warning. Moves dangerous enough to harm or disable even across the small room and into the doorway where he now stood.

"Hanging around Bumblebee and you have to know how to blend in as a scout. Not all Decepticons are seekers, flying overhead. Best places to hide is in plain sight, ask Barricade. If he doesn't blast you first. But he runs in a fight, so hit hard and fast first attack," Hound instructed, hopping up onto his berth and stretching out with a groan.

"I tend to run from fighting too," she admitted then added, "Thanks for letting me use your room. Repair crews apologized for delaying the repaint of mine. Chromia slagged the wall chemically from her side, trying Wheeljack's latest ammo shells. They worked too well. Accidentally activated, melting through her armor. She had to fire them to save her arm. At least it was not another fight. I heard Wheeljack is hiding with the Dinobots off island until Ironhide calms down. I haven't minded a bit."

"I'm sure," his lip plates formed a knowing grin. "You're welcome to stay here tonight. I leave this afternoon for another mission. Catching up a few hours of recharge until then," he said.

"Never catch a break do you?" She sympathized.

"Life of a scout."

"I'll stick to tech repair and inter galaxy piloting thanks," Silverblade stated firmly, pausing before the outer closed door. Sensors detected no Cybertronian energy signatures in the hallway beyond.

"Repair? Come in handy on my long-range systems. Remind me to share data files with you. Medics are bad about making field calls," he murmured, his optics closing as his cables and gears relaxed.

"Really? Most mechs head for the fields to escape Ratchet. Not call him to them."

"Very funny Silver. And you won't need that hidden blaster. I am not a threat to you. Scouts see it all, remember that. Until all are one," Hound trailed off as the door slid open to her gasp.

**Two Weeks Later**

**Autobot private quarters, corner before Hound's room**

Hound kept his vocalizer from releasing a groan of relief. 'Finally, my quarters. Processed this mission would never end. I'm so slagging tired not even the wash racks appeal right now. What is a little mud? Heck, a lot of dried mud." He glanced down at his tan colored feet, relieved nothing was falling off or leaving tracks in the hallway. His normal green armor color was barely discernible until past his knee plates. His chest, legs and ends of his arm plating were tan. Tan where not gouged down to the protoform. Pebbles, vegetation fragments and even a broken piece of a road sign were wedged in armor gaps.

Hypersensitive systems flashed warnings, detecting another Cybertronian life form approaching. He recognized Ultra Magnus' energy signature. 'Not him. He will want a mission debrief once I tell him about Thundercracker. He has never forgotten Tantrus Four and the surprise attack. Whom won't he talk to? Think scout. You are in camera range either direction. Time to get it gear,' he processed as the heavy tread of the larger mech vibrated the floor.

Ultra Magnus rotated his right shoulder, wincing with the misaligned main gear. "I am not telling Ratchet I tripped over a minibot, or rather fell avoiding one. Cliffjumper will never say, sneaking metal to make a weapons extension. I don't care how long supply requests take; he does not need to strip the scrap pile. Metal is scrapped for a reason. And bad timing that he…ohhhh!" He twitched, adjusting mid step, nearly running into Chromia.

"Watch it mech. You're not the only bot in these halls," the blue armored femme barked.

"Uhm, Ironhide was in the recreation room then headed for main control," he said, balancing by extending all his feet pads nearly flat against the floor.

"Did I ask where he was?" she lifted an optic arch.

"No, ma'am. You did not. Can I… that is… why him?"

"Why Ironhide?" she smirked, buying time to form an answer. Her arms crossed as she reclined against the wall, as though relaxing. Under the hologram, Hound's tired processors accessed data files on the warrior couple. The wall kept him upright, but wouldn't for long as recharge warnings began flashing across his optics. Transmitters confirmed he and Ultra Magnus were alone but on camera. 'Red Alert watches for trespassing not conversations. Safe here.'

In the Autobot control room, Ironhide leaned forward, intent on what Chromia would answer. Red Alert excused himself, muttering about needing an energon top off to his cube. The security mech left, uninterested. His security cameras recorded every event and were accessible any time.

The watched conversation continued. "You know we are matched as warriors? He targeted me you might say," Chromia began.

"When all you have is cannons everything looks like a target," Ultra Magnus quipped.

"He is not Iron- blow-up - everything- hide," she said, the barest trace of red in her optics. "He is a weapons specialist. He knows everything from air-powered propulsion to advanced thermal bombs. Strategy and tactics, practical applications and power limitations are more than releasing a safety and aiming a weapon. His cognitive coding is nearly equal to Ratchet and Prime. Oh, his emotions get in the way but he makes rational decisions."

"I've seen him on the battlefield. He is never sacred and rarely surprised. Handles situations where other mechs are panicking. Never really processed beyond needing his firepower," Ultra Magnus commented thoughtfully.

Hound vented softly, his room and recharge berth so close yet blocked by one very large white, blue and red mech. "Precisely. He chose me after processing it thoroughly. Didn't have to pick a spark mate let alone any femme, even me," she tilted her head, optics dimming. Internally Hound was recalling encrypted scout files. "Do you know what my surname on Cybertron is?"

"No, thought I'm guessing one of the warrior clans," he gestured as if it should have been obvious.

She snorted, "Nightstar. As in Nightstar the archivists. The clan that kept our history and traditions alive while preserving it in the archives."

"I never would have guessed," the commander admitted.

"Ironhide teases me about it from time to time. He is the one mech who accepted me contradictions and all. And I accept him. Oh, he fries my spark and I blast his aft for it but we have our sparking times too," she purred. The other mech looked embarrassed, fiddling with his hands. Hound recalled an overheard conversation between Elita and Chromia he was not supposed to have.

"I came off patrol early in our relationship, heading for our quarters with a broken shoulder strut. He takes one look at the damage and demands I go to med bay. Will not spark merge, will not even interface until I get it repaired. Him? Noooooooo. Blasted through the hip joints, leaking energon or armor melted and he is interfacing me in a spark beat. I'm hurt and he throws me over his shoulder plates and drops me in med bay like a youngling."

In the control room, Ironhide vented hard, remembering the incident from their earliest bonding times.

"He cared," Ultra Magnus stated, suddenly understanding more about them.

"Slag yes! He waited until the strut set three breems later for me to return to our quarters. I threatened him, hit him, and would have blasted him if medical overrides had not disabled my weapons. Through it all he listened patiently and you know what he said? 'Femme, it makes no difference you are mine.' I knew then it was his way of declaring his utter devotion to me. And I would wait for the repair of a thousand struts if it meant him in my arms afterwards."

"Does he know that?"

"He is my spark mate," Chromia reminded. "Mech's don't need reminding and his way of simplifying situations is part of his charm. When he wants me, I'll know," she shrugged human style.

The commander had had enough. "I need to go or I'll be late for shift change. Until all are one," Ultra Magnus left. Chromia continued down the hallway out of camera range as Ironhide closed his optics, considering what he had overheard. The hum of equipment in the control room was the only sound.

In the hallway, Hound's door sensors identified his presence, opening silently as his holo image dissolved to his natural form. 'Made it,' he vented. Inside, Silverblade glanced over her datapad schematics, lip plates forming a frown as he hobbled into the main room. The mud and debris didn't worry her, the uneven gait did.

"What happened?"

"Power unit blew. I kept fighting and overloaded the set limits," he stopped, trying to be polite when all he wanted was to fall to the floor. The nice clean, unmoving metal floor. Were his quarters really that big? The recharge room that far away?

"Need Ratchet?" Her optics narrowed, taking in his dirty appearance and hearing the word fighting.

"Nah, happened before. Matter of replacing parts. I have a spare one, lower shelf black wall cabinet. Need it switched out before cleaning," he gestured towards the far wall before reaching to lean on the doorway edge.

"I can help. You asked about sharing repair data. I was trained as a relief med tech once," she admitted, moving to stand by his berth.

"Really?" he grinned, hobbling over and leaning on the edge of the berth. "Why aren't you in med bay then?" Dim blue optics watched her hands touch the exact places needed to release his armor joints.

"With Hoist, Wheeljack and First Aid as backup Ratchet doesn't need me. And Ratchet is not the personality type I would work well under," her deft fingers had the first layers of leg armor off and neatly stacked on the side table. "I prefer my own repairs anyways. Know what is going in or out of me that way."

"Sure you won't reconsider being a scout? Loner personality, good depth perception, intelligence and stable processor core. Handle your own repairs. Too many mechs run into combat, rather than observing the situation per orders. Offlined, you cannot report what you found. You might be Primus blessed to do it?" Hound asked.

"Pilot and tech are enough. Though I don't mind getting my hands dirty," she stated as he rolled his optics at the dried mud flaking off. The inner wiring was exposed. "This is an odd arrangement," she muttered, pulling out a sheared cable fragment before scooping out a handful of pebbles and a crushed pine tree branch off the rest.

"Hmm, so it is. Don't remember why. Check the other leg," he continued as his recharge warning sounded. "Can you hurry this up? I'm going to recharge on my feet pads here in astro seconds."

"No need, hop up on the bunk. Add my energy signature to your safe files and I can work on repairs while you rest. If you trust me that is," she finished, wondering if she had overstepped the bounds. Letting her share an empty, unused room was one thing. Trusting another bot inside your inner workings while asleep, especially a paranoid scout was another.

"Added you the day you asked to share this room Silverblade," he reassured, practically falling onto his recharge berth. "Don't tell any other bot. I have a reputation about never recharging by others but truthfully," he shifted onto his back plating. "I worry about firing on them by accident. Saw another scout do that once, forgot to engage his protections. Mine are automated once set. I can trust it to recognize one or two bots but three or more and the defenses would become useless. Bumblebee found that out. But he doesn't carry half the weaponry I do or have my mass. You are safe. Otherwise, the first time that you moved, I would have blasted you. I would have felt bad about that."

"Me too," she answered, wiring an open connection.

"Been a real mess. Hard enough to keep me clean… and not… this … room," he drifted into recharge, his entire system relaxing. An hour later, she finished the repairs and left for the wash racks to clean the dirt transferred to her armor. Once finished, she returned to his room, walking normally to the spare recharge berth. His sensors may automatically recognize her but any attempt at stealth would have triggered systems not even he could have overrode or coded past. Tired, she never processed to set the chronometer before her usual wake up time or processed to ask Hound about his schedule.

The next morning, the wall intercom beeped. Fuzzily, she pulled out of recharge, disorientated by the layout of the room. Her hand triggered the lights, and then slid them down to quarter power at the sight of Hound's sleeping form.

"Hound? Are you functional? Please respond," Optimus regal baritone requested.

'Oh pit, they can't know I'm here,' she processed, vocalizing a general agreement sound.

In the main Autobot hanger, there was absolute dead silence at the feminine tone. Every bot turned towards Optimus, his faceplates registering disbelief. He tapped his right audio spinner as though it was malfunctioning.

"That was not Hound," Prowl identified, his wing doors snapping straight out in shock.

"Ha!" Ironhide chuckled. "Green bot has himself a femme."

"Hound? Not likely, too paranoid when recharging. You know what he is like," Ratchet corrected.

In the room, she ignored their comments, barely discernible over the open line. Touching Hound or throwing anything his way would trigger his defenses. Obviously, Autobot command had tried pinging his relay without result, resorting to calling. If he didn't respond, some bot would come in person. Bad for them both. 'Here goes,' she raised the power relays to her com signal then heavily encrypted it.

::WAKE UP HOUND!:: Silverblade shouted, the feedback blasting through the signal at such a close distance. The green scout twitched, snapping up, battle systems charging as she remained still. ::Optimus on the intercom:: She twitched her head towards the wall unit.

"Hound here," he cheerfully stated as his face plates warmed with embarrassment.

"Shift began a breem ago. Are you fit for duty?" the leader carefully asked, keeping emotion out of his tone.

"Yes sir, be there shortly. I uh... lost track of time," he reached, snapping on his lower leg armor plates before hopping off the bed. Wobbling, he swayed in a circle as she giggled, the feminine sound transmitting clearly across the intercom.

In the command center, Prowl raised his eye plates as Ironhide smirked before elbowing Ratchet. "Told yah. Earth can change a mech," he crowed. Optimus ignored them, trying to identify which femme had giggled by sound alone.

::Silverbolt is in the room when he is not. Could she?:: Prowl sent to Optimus alone.

::No. They are too different. In addition, Ratchet is right, Hound recharges alone whenever possible. We know that from the battlefield:: Optimus

::Unless he is a split vocal core, there is a femme in with him:: Prowl

In his quarters, Silverblade reached out, grabbing and steadying Hound before removing the armor plates. Flipping them the other direction, she snapped them on with the rounded edge fitting below his knee joint instead of against it. The sound of armor snapping into place also transmitted.

"I'll be there…. shortly. Need to put my other armor… uhm back on. And I need... the wash racks. Sorry, I will be there as quickly as I can, won't happen again sir," he finished in a rush.

"Understood," Optimus finally answered after a long pause. "Take the time…required. No emergency. Optimus clear."

"I am never going to live this down," the green armored scout groaned, hiding his face.

_To be continued… _


	3. Chapter 3 Which femme and where

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Faster updates will be occurring now that the story arc is established and in progress across multiple parts.

**CHAPTER THREE – YOU THINK YOU KNOW**

_Hound's Private Quarters_

Silverblade regarded Hound sheepishly. Her ancient thin silver form reflected her mixed feelings of amusement and embarrassment as she sat on the far bunk. "Your lone wolf reputation is ruined. I'm sorry."

"Not your fault Silver," the green armored scout raised his helm, his optics brightening. Like the quarters they rested in, the simplicity and honesty of his answer clear. The green painted room was standard size, the few spare weapon attachments and gear for his scout missions carefully secured in the black wall cabinets. Items from various worlds and earth adorned the only desk, most of his time spent on missions, not reports. "They don't know it was you, hearing only a femme's sounds on the intercom. And it does give me an excuse to avoid discussing my missions. Prime wants reports directly to him and only him until the information is cleared by command."

"Too bad your personal life isn't restricted," she teased, gathering her repair tools back to subspace.

"None of ours is. Though I doubt any pair could outdo Ironhide and Chromia. They actually got caught interfacing in an office when they were supposed to be working on a post battle review," Hound chuckled, waiting to change his recharge covers after his shower. A few pieces of his removed armor remained on the side table, the dirt long dried.

"Why does that not surprise me?"

"Did me. It was Prowl's spare office next to the brig. The Decepticon prisoner in the cell on the other side of the wall got an audio full, though limited in what he heard, I understand. Mistook the sounds for torture and demanded to see Prime. Gave us the information needed and we let him go, none the wiser," Hound explained.

"The Decepticons never hesitate to use torture in interrogations, or any other time. They fight and destroy because they have the power to," her paler blue optics flashed with old memories. She threw her recharge cover into the cleaner chute before smoothing the new one in place. "The questions you get over me might seem that way. I better leave before any bot comes looking to confirm my identity."

"Wait," he slid off the recharge berth, opening the nearby cabinet and dropping another clump of dried mud onto the floor. He turned back handing her a square holo emitter. Curious, she triggered the device, feeling no difference. Internal diagnostics detected no physical change or data upload other then the small energy output of the device. He gestured towards the wall mirror, twin Autobot scouts reflecting in the image. The closest Hound waved at himself before turning to look at his backside and leg plating.

"I like," Silverblade's voice issued from his lip plates.

"Covers you for a joor if necessary and is near undetectable by Cybertronian gear and will fool the humans systems completely. Used it before on missions. Fastest way to confuse seekers is to see double or triple. Their very identity relies on the paint markings on their wing stripes. Matching colors or look alike warriors give you an edge. Not much from an airborne enemy but it helps. Your vocal is the only give away and remember to shorten your stride. You have longer leg cables than I do."

Five minutes later, a clean, upright Hound walked out the back door of the Autobot quarters, passing Sunstreaker and Sideswipe on the way in. Neither greeted the other, intent on their own paths. A muddy Hound with the barest trace of a limp walked out the front door at the other end of the building at the same time, heading for the wash racks.

_Diego Garcia NEST Base_

_Main Autobot Hangar_

"I will not speculate on her identity," Optimus stated in their native Cybertronian, keeping the conversation from the humans at the other end of the building. The large red and blue armored mech stood feet pads braced, armored hands on his hip plating in his best 'I'm in charge as leader' stance. Sounds of disagreement had him venting when neither Ironhide nor Ratchet relented. Their curiosity benefited as command officers, their interest in the personal lives of his troops providing needed information he would never have learned. Until it concerned the femmes or their personal relationships, then he became uncomfortable with the thin line between knowing, gossiping and meddling. Instead, he let Elita handle it as Femme Commander.

The edge of Prowl's lip plates twitched as Prime looked his way, his silent agreement visible. The officer rarely had time for a personal life and chose to stay single, politely ignoring femme's attempts to partner with him. "Hound has an impeccable performance record," Prowl reminded, ignoring their smirks. "And is fully aware of his responsibilities. When he wants us to know, he will include the information."

"We are scheduled to discuss operational procedures this morning, not potential pairings," Optimus stated.

"We wanna know Prime," Ironhide encouraged.

"We? You _want_ to lug head. I _need_ to examine their spark casings for potential problems. Unmated pairs can trigger everything from back flares to overcharges if any parts of their systems are not fully functional. Let emotion overwhelm their logic circuits and I get called in the middle of my recharge time for their problems. Both mechanical and relationship related," Ratchet grumbled.

"How do you know they aren't spark mated already? You and Moonracer took slagging forever to commit, don't mean they will too," Ironhide retorted, flexing his black armored fingers around the datapad in his hands.

"Newly spark mated pairs are easy to spot. From their intense optical stares to flares in their energy signatures as two systems align into one. Signs present to a trained medical observer. Unlike you fragging your mate in public places where others can hear and see! Be nice for once and I might even tell you who the femme is when I know," Ratchet answered, stepping in front of Ironhide. The green white medic smirked as the black armored weapon's specialist glared back.

Next to Optimus, Prowl's wing doors twitched once before settling into a higher angle as his optics momentarily dimmed. Optimus narrowed his optics, recognizing the signs of his second in command focusing elsewhere, usually linking into earth systems. Far more advanced, the Transformers had to restrain their coding to pull the data fragments without overloading the device or earth made computer server.

"Prowl?"

"Sir?" the monochromatic armored mech focused on his leader. "Two Hounds just exited the Autobot quarters from two different doors."

"Sneaky scout," Ironhide chuckled then turned as the sounds of two powerful engines raced outside. The rose-colored alt form of Elita slid into the hangar, followed closely by the car carrier alt mode of Ultra Magnus. Transforming, they continued arguing.

"You set a bad example breaking the speed limit and swerving dangerously close to human vehicles," Ultra Magnus rumbled, his first square end finger pointing down at her.

"They were going slow in the left lane and in my way," Elita defiantly challenged, her chassis inches from his, and less than half his height.

"It is illegal to pass a vehicle going the speed limit Femme Commander," he snapped back. His massive red, blue and white frame out massed every other earth Autobot yet failed to intimidate the short femme standing before him.

"I set my own limits City Commander," she snarled.

"Enough!" Optimus ordered, his command tone getting even their attention. "There are more important matters to attend to."

"Like which femme is keeping Hound company," Ironhide drawled.

"Hound?" They both echoed, optics wide.

"Her identity remains unknown. He used a hologram to disguise her identity from the security cameras upon exiting his quarters," Prowl commented.

Elita spun, advancing on the black and white armored second in command. "His personal life or hers is none of your business unless they are breaking Autobot law or endangering human life. If you have time available to watch our personal quarters film footage I have practical uses for your time and energy."

:: What happened on your patrol that has her spark flaming? She looks ready to spit out seeker wing parts:: Optimus sent to Magnus alone, letting Elita vent before trying to talk to her. Prowl would never take her words personally and might actually calm her down.

:: Nothing. Elita started this way with asking me if I needed a bib for my morning energon or could I hurry it up refilling. She hit the mainland running as in running over the other drivers on the way to pick up the command codes. Good thing the Pentagon doesn't see her driving. They had us transport them here because we were 'safer drivers' and instead she nearly causes traffic wrecks:: Ultra Magnus

:: Close calls do not count, only crashes and pile-ups:: Optimus

:: Seriously Prime, what were you thinking in having Wheeljack train her to drive?:: Magnus

:: To keep Sunstreaker and Sideswipe from encouraging her jumping and flipping abilities. Earth terrain and roads allows driving possibilities never possible on Cybertron. Wheeljack is our best driver and as comfortable in his alt mode as in his lab::Optimus

:: Meaning he won't blow up while with her, unlike his inventions. Never thought of it that way. Keep both explosive problems out of your struts:: Magnus chuckled.

:: In time, she will mellow and obey more of the human driving laws:: Optimus

:: Or you spend the night alone while she is in an impound yard:: Magnus retorted lightly before closing their specific comm line. The discussion never did return to operating procedures, straying from Hound's unknown femme to privacy concerns to how fast the news spread a femme was with Hound contrasting to the slow pace new rules were read let alone obeyed.

_**Autobot Personal Quarters**_

_**Night time**_

"This will pass, keep telling yourself that," Silverblade murmured, reluctantly staying in her own quarters, too many mechs in the hallway near Hound's room. The map hiding the patched wall tilted at an angle, a reminder of the reason she chose to share a room by a scout, though not with.

"No femme admitted it to me. Intelligence gathering is not my specialty," Chromia's vocal filtered through the wall patch.

"Ah told Prime we need ta know. Processed you femmes talk all the time oww!" Sounds of metal clunks and rapid movement followed.

"Opinionated over bearing mech! We talk to hear intelligent conversation instead of battle bragging from you mechs," Chromia retorted, the wall barely distorting her volume.

Inside the room alongside, Silverblade flopped face down on her recharge berth as an all too familiar pattern began. "They fight then make up and interface to spark merge and I hear it all! Primus, do I have to turn my audios off to rest?"

_**Three weeks later**_

_**Hound's Private Quarters**_

Hound blinked, his blue optics narrowing at the dual energy signatures outside his hallway door. His scout systems suppressed his exasperated venting, marking no difference from deep cover hiding in enemy territory and his own living quarters. Noiselessly, his feet pads covered the floor distance to the main door, not a single creak or shift of metal betraying his movements.

"Can I help you?" his greeting to the twins cheerful as always.

"We're not interrupting are we?" Sunstreaker asked, walking right past him into the room.

"Wouldn't want to catch you at a bad time," his red armored twin Sideswipe added. Both looked around, optics missing none of the room's details nor the open door to the recharge room. And the fact it was empty.

"Prepping for a mission, nothing too important."

"Who is she?" Sunstreaker asked in a conversational tone, leaning back against the wall.

"No idea. Prowl briefed me on Starscream and Thundercracker scouting power plants, never mentioned a femme. Though Starscream's pitch is higher than any other mech," he said, knowing exactly what they were referring too. Unlike Silverblade who fumed upon discovering a betting pool on who the unknown femme was, Hound reveled in it. And found the perfect way to confuse watchers of their comings and goings.

"The femme that actually stays here, not the holographic ones either," Sideswipe said. He wanted to win the betting pool.

"Figured it out did you?"

"Not at first" perfectly timed with "It was easy," as both twins spoke at the same time.

"Look," Sunstreaker pointed at Hound. "The unpaired femmes were cute to watch and kept us guessing in the beginning. Then Chromia stopped by."

"Two Chromias actually, at the same time. And since all the twins on base are mechs, we knew you were being sneaky."

"How did you know one wasn't her?" Hound countered.

"She chewed our aft on the practice range for missing one target! Then Ironhide kicked us out so he could 'practice' with her, alone.'" Sunstreaker rolled his optics, the sultry overtone indicating what type of practice.

"While they were practicing we came back here. And see two Chromias is in the hallway entering your room!"

"Guilty as charged," Hound admitted, putting both hands up in the human gesture of surrender.

"And?"

"And what? I already admitted the femmes were my hologram illusions. Wheeljack helped me design a hallway remote and Bumblebee helped test it. Prime signed off on it. Might come in handy in the field as a diversionary tactic for any bot not equipped with a hologram emitter," the green armored scout said.

"The technology sounds interesting enough to borrow for a prank but you still haven't answered our question. Who is she?" Sunstreaker asked again. Instead of an answer he got a call from Prowl regarding their prank from the day before. Hound thanked Prowl later for answering his private call for help so quickly. And the twins spent the night in the brig as Wheeljack and Hound worked out a plan to sneak a bot in and out past them and the cameras.

**Hound's Private Quarters**

**One week later**

The sounds of Hound's chuckling preceded him into the smaller room. Walking in, he tossed the signal jammer on the side table before grinning at her.

"What's so funny? Jammer fritz out again?" Silverblade asked, the energon rifle in her hand almost completely reassembled. Only the targeting scope and handle clips remained on the berth top.

"No ma'am. Worked like a charm, once we knew to keep them from moisture. Would have been nice for Wheeljack to tell us before the first time it rained but live and learn. The base psychiatrist says those two guard soldiers are making progress towards recovery by the way."

"That's reassuring but you didn't answer the first question."

"I was laughing because of our field operations meeting. Ratchet asked me when I was going to commit and try a spark merge lock with my femme. Then Prime reminded me the Festival of Burning Lights is next orn and a good time to announce my choice of a partner as my 'step forward in making memories'. Ratchet butted in 'After I schedule a full check up for him and her. Or else.'"

"Oh no, not them too! The other femmes are driving me crazy. Most bets are on Firestar or Flareup. I'm actually fourth down the list," Silverblade groaned, returning her assembled rifle to subspace.

"Our paring is fourth? Good job on keeping our relationship a secret I'd say," Hound chortled.

"We are not a pair." Blue optics narrowed as she slid off the recharge berth to stand.

"I know how to fix that," he smirked, folding his arms across his front bumper.

Her posture shifted more towards a fight ready stance. "And what would that be youngling?"

Hound continued smirking, teasing her along. "Well, we could do in pretend what most real couples do. Have a disagreement, which becomes a distraction between us until it escalates into a big public fight. We avoid each other for a while until the time is right, coincidentally timed with the opening of the new quarters. We make up like good Autobots but never really talk about what happened. They get a quick easy answer and move on to other diversions. We stay friends and they are none the wiser. No bot processes twice if you need to stay the night after that. You have your berth, I have mine and nothing happens on either. Then and now."

She chuckled, relaxing back against the bunk edge. "You had me going there for an astro second. You are one devious bot."

"Devious as a scout ma'am," he corrected.

_To be continued..._

_Next up: The "big fight" and unexpected consequences. _


End file.
